


Insignia

by Deeranger



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bikers, Crying, Dirty Talk, Dominance, Erik has Issues, Erik is Evil, Explicit Sexual Content, Knifeplay, M/M, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Older Man/Younger Man, One Shot, Poor Charles, Psychological Trauma, Rough Oral Sex, Sexual Assault, Top Erik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-03 20:46:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12154473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deeranger/pseuds/Deeranger
Summary: What if Charles is walking home from college and a rugged biker named Erik wants to claim him for himself... No matter if Charles wants to be claimed or not?





	Insignia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fullmetalcarer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fullmetalcarer/gifts).



> Inspired by a post on Tumblr. It might not be what the lovely fullmetalcarer had envisioned (at all), but I felt like gifting it to you - because after all, you sparked my brain and got me writing with your lovely idea. This is my weird way of thanking you. LOL, I don't know if that's good or bad. But anyway - thank you!   
> And people, please heed the warnings. 
> 
> Tumblr post in question:  
> http://deeranger.tumblr.com/post/165557261829/fullmetalcarer-kingleepaceoh-thats

The humming sound of the traffic in the background was always present, rising and falling in waves constantly, drowning the sound of Charles’ sneakers calmly shuffling through the dead leaves in the side of the road. He had just said goodbye to his two friends outside college and currently he had his face almost buried in a book already as he walked alongside the park fence. Many people thought it odd that he liked reading such “dry” books as this as they called it. In return he didn’t understand why his peers were NOT fascinated by genetics. It was like reading about the building blocks of the very human existence, pulling each layer off slowly and getting surprised by each twist and turn along the way. It was better than any crime novel his friends had ever shoved into his lap in the college library. He huffed slightly as he turned a page. Once in a while he quickly lowered the book a little and cast down his glance to make sure that he wasn’t headed towards anything he might trip over, only to resume reading. It was a pretty quiet street and at six in the evening most people were home having dinner, so the street was completely deserted. But he didn’t mind. Actually he liked the quiet sounds of the city behind him and the distant screech of gulls once in a while. While he read one of the long paragraphs on page 109 he corrected his glasses a little. They were slowly sliding down the bridge of his nose as he walked, as usual. Busy trying to concentrate he didn’t even notice the rumble of a motorcycle engine coming closer. He really needed to go to the optician and get those glasses tightened a little. Sniffling slightly in the cool autumn weather he shuddered a little and turned to page 110. Genetics might be quite a difficult topic to comprehend sometimes, but his fascination clearly overrode his annoyance when he stumbled on things he had to read twice to understand fully. That was probably why the library was running out of material on genetics to lend him. 

“Hey!” someone suddenly yelled. Charles immediately turned his head to the side, surprised to find a man on a motorcycle riding in the middle of the small road next to him. How had he not noticed the rumbling of the engine? The man had a smile on his thin lips and his semi long auburn hair was tussled into quite a mess by the wind. If it hadn’t been for the smile on his face Charles would have felt intimidated by his looks. He wore jeans, a black leather vest with studs and his muscular arms holding on to the handlebars were covered in tattoos. He had to be freezing, he thought. Charles found himself wondering if he wore a motorcycle club insignia on his back and felt slightly uneasy.

“What are ya reading?” the man asked in a loud voice to drown out the engine noise and swung slightly closer. Raising an eyebrow in confusion Charles looked at him.

“Umm… A science book,” he said insecurely. The man on the bike let out a small laugh.

“About what?” he asked and let the bike swerve a little closer to Charles and the park’s fence. Starting to feel nervous Charles bit his lower lip and shoved the glasses back up where they were supposed to be. 

“It’s about the molecular structure of nucleic acids,” he said and started to walk a little faster. 

“Sounds boring,” the man said and sent him a small wink, accelerating ever so slightly to keep up with Charles. Not knowing what to make of it Charles merely nodded with a small smile and then turned his attention back to the book. Maybe that would deter the stranger a little and make him understand that he didn’t really appreciate the chitchat. 

“Don’t you have better things to do than reading dusty, old books?” the biker asked, not taking his eyes off Charles for a second. 

“I could think of a hundred better things,” the man added. Charles thought he heard a weird undertone of something he didn’t quite understand in the biker’s voice and decided to ignore it. Sunset was slowly approaching by now and he had almost reached the end of the park fence and reached the block of old apartment buildings. Sniffling he bit his lower lip. 

“I quite enjoy reading,” he just said and flipped to page 112 even though he really hadn’t read a single word since he had turned to page 110. 

“I enjoy the finer things in life,” the man said and suddenly swerved to the side, ending up right beside Charles. Involuntarily the young man flinched slightly and almost bumped his shoulder into the fence, trying to avoid a possible collision. In the process he dropped his book on the ground. The man drowned the motorcycle’s engine and came to a hold next to Charles. The sudden silence that followed seemed eerie all of a sudden, the distant traffic noise no longer soothing. 

“Jumpy, huh?” the biker laughed. Swallowing a lump suddenly lodged in his throat Charles looked at him shortly. The tattooed man put down the kickstand and motioned to get off the bike. 

“I… I have to go now,” Charles stammered and edged his way along the fence, past the biker. His heart seemed to be stuck in his throat and he found himself hurrying to the corner of the fence and making his way down the street there.

“Hey!” the man yelled somewhere behind him. Terrified Charles looked over his shoulder shortly and saw him starting to follow him on foot. Suddenly covered in a sheet of cold sweat Charles began to run down the street, the soles of his sneakers giving off a crunching sound against the asphalt drizzled with crispy, dead leaves. He didn’t even know this street, he realized. He had no idea where to run or where to hide and there wasn’t a single person in sight anywhere. Wheezing for air he looked over his shoulder again. His heart seemed to skip a beat when he saw how much closer the biker was than only seconds ago. He was gaining on him fast. Panicky Charles suddenly changed course, doing a ninety degree turn out into the street, heading for a concrete tunnel opening into the play area of an apartment complex. Maybe he could find someone there who could help him and maybe he could find a place to hide, he thought feverishly. Every muscle in his body strained when he sprinted towards the small tunnel and he looked over his shoulder again. But just as he did a strong hand grabbed a hold of his shoulder, tugging hard at the fabric of his thick sweater. Charles let out a terrified yelp.

“Where d’you think you’re going?!” the biker hissed and turned Charles around to face him inside the tunnel, slamming him with his back first against the wall. Petrified Charles felt like he couldn’t move. For a few seconds he just stood there, staring wide-eyed at the rugged-looking man in front of him. 

“Running from your book and all…” the man said and shook his head. Heaving unevenly for air Charles’ lips tried to form some words but they seemed to stumble on each other in his mind and never made it out. 

“You know what I read once?” he asked, looking at Charles with a piercing stare. In the dim light of the tunnel his eyes looked dark and scary and Charles shook his head desperately. 

“I read a quote by Florence Nightingale which said: I think one's feelings waste themselves in words; they ought all to be distilled into actions which bring results...” the man mumbled, pressing Charles a little harder against the wall. 

“And she’s right about that. Why explain what I feel when I can show it?” he continued and tilted his head a little. In the same moment one of his hands started moving from Charles collar down towards his stomach. Numb with fear and confusion Charles blinked rapidly as if he was trying to clear his head.

“What?” he managed to utter in a small voice. The man let out a huff.

“Seize what you want, boy. Seize what you want,” he said, his voice now turning husky. His hand continued downwards and suddenly slipped up under the thick sweater, long fingers exploring his hot skin.

“Wha… What are you doing?” Charles burst out, finally starting to resist the man advancing on him. He found himself squirming against the wall, trying get away. But a resolute, extra push against the wall stilled him and let him know that this was serious.

“I just told you. I’m seizing what I want,” the biker said and suddenly tore at the sweater, starting to pull it off over Charles’ head. Unable to keep his arms down his sides to prevent himself from being stripped, Charles felt the cold air hitting his nude torso with an intensity that instantly made his nipples harden. His attacker was frighteningly strong. The sweater then hit the ground with a soft thud and Charles realized where this was headed.

“Oh, would you look at that,” the taller man whispered and placed his broad palms on Charles’ pale chest, brushing his nipples eagerly back and forth. Then suddenly he pressed himself harder against Charles who suddenly felt an unmistakable hardness poking at his lower abdomen through the biker’s jeans. His breath hitched.

“Help! Somebody hel-” Charles screamed from the top of his lungs, but he was interrupted when a broad hand clamped itself over his mouth. 

“Shut up!” the biker hissed, leaning in further and making the tips of their noses almost touch. Panicky Charles grabbed a hold of his wrist, trying to pry it off his mouth – but he quickly abandoned his plan when the older man narrowed his eyes maliciously at him and grabbed a hold of his groin through his sweatpants. Frozen Charles whimpered slightly, the sound muffled by the hand covering his mouth. 

“I thought you were clever… Don’t prove me wrong,” the man said lowly and quickly turned his head to look to each side. But the place was still completely deserted and there wasn’t a soul in sight despite of Charles’ cry for help. A smile appeared on the biker’s lips. 

“Now you do as I say,” he whispered and released his grip on Charles’ privates to rummage about for something in his vest pocket. Instantly Charles started to kick and squirm to break free, but as he already knew his physique was completely inferior to the older man’s. He was held in place without much effort. He tried digging his nails into the skin on man’s wrist to get him to let go, but his attempt was only met with a small hiss. And nothing more. 

“Stay still!!” the man snarled and pulled something out from his pocket. Charles’ eyes widened in terror when the dim light in the tunnel reflected itself in the knife’s blade as it was waved back and forth in front of his face. He fell silent and didn’t move a muscle. He almost didn’t even dare to breathe. 

“That’s better,” the biker whispered, a sly grin spreading on his face. Again Charles could feel the hard bulge in the man’s jeans press itself against him and he trembled. Apparently the man noticed and sent him a wide grin, exposing a row of white teeth in the process which made Charles think of a great white shark. Like a great white attacking its prey, he thought frantically. 

“Now I want you to get on your knees and suck my dick,” the biker suddenly said, inching the knife a little closer to Charles’ throat. Instantly a wave of dread washed through Charles but he didn’t move an inch. He wasn’t even sure if he could if he wanted to. He felt completely frozen to the spot. 

“And if I feel your teeth in even the slightest way I will stick this knife in your throat, you got it?” he added while waving the knife threateningly back and forth once more. Silence fell for a few seconds and Charles could feel his eyes well up, following the knife’s movements. This couldn’t be happening. But he found himself nodding reluctantly none the less. Was this happening? 

“Make those pretty lips of yours useful,” the biker whispered and finally lifted his hand off Charles’ mouth. 

“Kneel, boy!” he barked and placed his hand on top of Charles’ head, pushing him down violently. With a yelp Charles landed on his knees on the asphalt, a sharp pain instantly radiating from his knee caps from the hard impact with the ground. Sucking in air in irregular gulps he looked up at his attacker. Shaking he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose as he sniffled in the cold. The biker exposed his teeth in a grin once more while he slowly reached down and started to unzip his jeans.

“Please don’t…” Charles whispered helplessly, turning his face away. But in the same moment the man grabbed a handful of his hair and forced his head back to look straight ahead. A small moan escaped Charles and he found himself staring directly at the zipper as it was being opened slowly. 

“Look at it!” the man instructed as the zipper opened completely. Feeling tears starting to prickle in the corners of his eyes Charles did as he was told. The knife was still in the man’s hand while the other had let go of Charles’ hair to free his hard cock from its tight denim confinement. The biker wasn’t wearing any underwear and Charles let out a gasp when he pulled out his hard-on in front of his face. Instinctively he closed his eyes. He didn’t turn his face away even though he wanted to. Because he knew by the man’s tone of voice that he really wouldn’t hesitate to use the knife if he felt like using it. He shuddered. Suddenly Charles felt something warm slapping his cheek.

“Open your eyes!” the biker demanded, his voice low and rumbling. Carefully Charles did as instructed – only to stare directly at the slightly ginger pubic hair at the base of the cock’s shaft. He was slapped on the cheek again, the heavy head of the biker’s erection smacking against his skin with what seemed like an incredibly loud sound in the tunnel. Charles felt like his ears were ringing. 

“Now suck on it,” the man ordered. Shivering Charles sniffled and hesitantly he started to lean forwards a little. It felt like his heart was beating its way out of his ribcage and the icy air felt like it scratched his lungs on the inside, leaving him almost whimpering with each breath.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, boy!” the biker snarled and grabbed a hold of his hair again, shaking him a little to emphasize his point. Charles’ glance quickly darted up to the knife. It was still there, hovering in the air and the sight made his gut twist and turn with fear. He whimpered. Forcing himself to obey Charles parted his lips and opened his mouth. Screwing his eyes shut he moved his head forwards a little – and he felt the head of the cock touch his lower lip. A tiny gasp escaped the biker and there was a demanding tug on Charles’ hair, clearly indicating his impatience. Suppressing every instinct in his being telling him to bite and run Charles closed his lips around the head of the biker’s cock, carefully starting to suck on it. A salty taste spread on his tongue and his stomach instantly turned. A throaty groan escaped the man towering above him.

“That’s it…” the biker said under his breath, pressing himself further into Charles’ mouth. The hot skin felt almost velvety and Charles was certain that he could actually feel the veins pulsating against his lips and tongue. He suppressed a sudden urge to throw up. The man started to pull out - only to plunge in deeper, causing Charles to let out a choked sound and trying automatically to retreat. But the firm grip on his hair held him in place.

“Come on, suck it,” the man moaned in an almost desperate tone of voice. Forcefully he pressed his cock in further, hitting the back of Charles’ throat. Panicky Charles tried not to gag, but he barely managed not to be sick instantly. The biker pulled himself out when Charles coughed violently.

“Do it properly and relax your fucking throat!” he hissed and smacked his cock against Charles’ cheek again, covering his scarlet skin in saliva and pre-cum. 

“Please…!!” Charles whimpered, heaving for air in between coughing. 

“Do as I say!” the man said and stuffed his thick cock into Charles’ mouth again. Scared to death that his teeth might touch Charles did his best to open wide and press his lips together slightly, trying to create as much room between his teeth and the intruding cock as possible. And when the back of his throat was hit once more he fought to relax and ignore the overwhelming urge to gag. It wasn’t easy. He was close to throwing up but he managed to ignore it despite of the bile rising in his throat. He had to. The knife was now hanging down by the man’s side while his other hand was tugging eagerly on Charles’ hair, wet with sweat. Completely focused on not letting his teeth touch Charles didn’t even notice the tears flowing from his eyes in a steady stream.

“Fuck…” the biker grunted and started to thrust harder. His breathing was becoming more shallow and Charles tightened his lips a little more. He just wanted this to end. For the biker to finish. This was all too humiliating and too surreal. The hand in his hair tightened its grip and the biker bucked his hips a little, earning a choked sound from Charles who feverishly tried to ignore yet another surge of acute nausea. 

“You like my cock in your mouth, don’t you, slut…!?” the man hissed, his thrusts becoming more erratic. Charles let out a guttural whimper when the cock seemed to grow even larger in his mouth, threatening to suffocate him. 

“Yeah, you love this cock…!” the biker groaned, leaning his head back as he approached climax, gasping for air. Charles found that he had to steady himself by placing his hands on the man’s thighs. If he didn’t he would be knocked over and lose his balance from the hard cock pumping in and out of his mouth almost too fast for him to adjust to. His cheeks were burning from humiliation and he realized that he was hoping that no one had heard his cry earlier. That no one was coming to help him. 

“Oh, fuck…!!!” the biker suddenly burst out, his voice a mix between a grunt and a hiss. In the same instant Charles felt the engorged cock stiffen even more in his mouth, pressing itself almost down his throat. He couldn’t breathe and panic instantly coursed through him, but he forced himself not to move. He stayed still, eyes screwed shut. The biker then bucked violently and released a hard jet of sperm into Charles’ mouth with a loud roar. The sound echoed in the tunnel, seemingly replaying itself several times before fading out. The salty taste of cum spread on Charles’ tongue as it flowed through his mouth from the back of his throat, causing his stomach to turn. The biker shuddered violently. 

“God…!” he said under his breath and finally started to pull himself out, his cock slowly going flaccid. As he pulled out completely Charles coughed violently, almost choking on the amount of cum filling his mouth. The grip on his hair was suddenly gone and he fell sideways, spitting out cum while supporting himself on his forearm. Everything seemed to be spinning and he heaved desperately for air. Next to him the biker was zipping up his jeans, but because of the overflow of tears in his eyes Charles couldn’t see much. Also, his glasses had almost slid down to the tip of his nose. 

“Well…! I must say, boy… For a bookworm you’re really good at sucking cock!” the biker’s voice said and Charles felt him kneel down next to him. Instinctively he pulled away, but a hand placed itself firmly on his shoulder. He winced and held up his hands defensively, trying to shield his face for whatever might be coming. He didn’t know where the knife was either. He heard a chuckle escape the man and he patted him on the shoulder. 

“Easy now,” he said and grabbed a hold of Charles’ chin, lifting up his face to look at him. Covered in saliva and cum Charles cringed, casting down his glance. He felt disgusting. Again his stomach turned. Fighting not to back away he let the biker slowly slide his glasses back in place and pat him on the cheek. 

“I could get addicted to this, you know,” the man said in an almost dreamy voice before finally letting go. Charles found himself in a pile on the asphalt, staying as unresponsive as he could. He wanted to disappear. To just dissolve into the ground. An overwhelming sensation of feeling filthy washed through him. 

“Well, I better get back to my bike,” the man said and the crunching of boot soles against asphalt let Charles know that he was moving. Trembling he dared to open his eyes a little and look. And the man was indeed leaving, it seemed. Was he really going to get through this alive? Charles trembled, the cold seeping up from the ground and biting into his body. His naked torso felt almost numb. 

“Oh, and see ya later, boy! It’s been a pleasure,” the man grinned and turned to look at Charles. Instantly he closed his eyes again, not daring or wanting to look him in the eye. 

“And don’t forget your book!” he laughed as he rounded the corner of the tunnel, disappearing out into the street. For a moment Charles just lay there and didn’t move. He couldn’t wrap his mind around what had just happened… But still he felt himself starting to tremble more violently as sobs tried to make their way out of him. He spat on the ground again, trying to get the taste of the biker out of his mouth – but it kept sticking to his tongue and to the roof of his mouth. Sniffling and trying to stifle his sobbing he got up on all fours, fumbling to pick his sweatshirt up from the ground. He just wanted to get away from there. In a hurry. But just as he grabbed a hold of the sweatshirt he had to turn to the side when bile suddenly rose up in his throat with a vengeance. Twisting his torso sideways he finally threw up, somehow managing not to cover the sweatshirt in vomit as he did. Instead he was leaning against the wall of the tunnel, his abdomen cramping as nausea washed through him in vicious waves. At the same time the sobs started to make their way out. He felt so incredibly ashamed as he supported himself against the wall weakly, crying and throwing up at the same time. He hoped to god that no one saw him. He couldn’t bear the thought of it. Finally his stomach was completely empty and the nausea subsided, leaving him to tremble even more violently than before as sniffles and sobs escaped him in what seemed to be an endless loop. And even though his mouth had basically been washed with bile, he could still taste the driver’s cum and he cringed. Quickly he got up from his knees and grabbed the sweatshirt, putting it on as fast as he could with numb fingers. He was freezing, he realized. Weak in his knees and wiping his eyes and nose with the sleeve of his sweatshirt he carefully peeked out into the almost dark street. It was just as deserted as before. But somehow it looked different. Everything was different. And nothing would ever be the same again. Drying his face the best he could with the bottom hem of the sweatshirt he convinced himself to start walking. And to keep walking. He needed to go home. And forget that this ever happened.


End file.
